My Only Love Sprung From My Only Hate
by ECaitlin
Summary: The scene from Malfoy Manor, told from Draco's point of view. - He couldn't just stand by and watch her get tortured. Perhaps he was taught to hate people like her, mudbloods, but he couldn't hate Hermione. He loved her too much... Oneshot Dramione!


**Draco's Point of View: Malfoy Manor**

I stared down at the permanent mark on my arm. Just last year I'd been so _happy_ to be branded. _Proud_. I thought I could do it. I thought maybe I could prove myself to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Prove that I was capable, that I could do what he asked me.

There was red around the Dark Mark now. Red, from weeks, months, of trying to remove it. I couldn't ask for help from my mother or father. Especially not with Bellatrix around all the time. She'd probably kill me if she thought I was dishonoring her lord like that.

It was sick, really, the way she worshiped him. That my parents were the same way. That _I_ had been the same way. I'd thought I was going to get power. Or at the very least keep my family safe after my father's mishap years ago at the Ministry.

But I'd been just as much as a failure. I hadn't been able to kill that stupid old man. I'd let him get to me, let him make me feel remorse fore what I'd promised I could do. I was weak.

But I honestly didn't care anymore if I was weak. I was seventeen years old! How could someone ever expect me to kill not just a person, but one of the greatest wizards ever known?

_You were supposed to die trying..._

Those words had been echoing in my head since my first attempt to kill the professor. If things hadn't worked out the way they had, I'd be dead.

Suddenly the glass that had been on my bedside table smashed against the opposite wall. I stared at the glass on the ground, at the small chipping in the paint on the wall. I'd not accidentally used magic since I was nine years old.

"Draco!" My mother's panicked voice bounced off my walls much the same as the glass had just done, sounding as frail and breakable as the glass had once been.

I stood up, running a hand through my hair and pulling my robes down over my wrist.

The living room was filled with more people than usual. Bellatix was there, along with both of my parents. To my unpleasant surprise, so was Fenrir Greyback and a few other wizards. The most surprising, though, was the bundle of people standing in the center of the room, everyone's attention on them.

They were tied together, the five of them. There was a goblin and that git Dean Thomas from Gryffindor. The orange hair gave Weasley away. He looked worse than I'd ever seen him, but not nearly as bad as Potter, who was barely recognizable. His face was swollen, his hair longer than I'd ever seen it, and he'd even manage to grow a pathetic beard.

And there was Hermione Granger. She, too, looked worse than I'd seen her. She was thin, her bushy hair matted down with dirt, and her face streaked with both cuts and mud. And yet, for some reason, I still found her attractive.

I don't know when I first noticed it, really. Maybe in fifth year, when she'd taken that prat Krum to the Yule Ball. She was a mudblood, though, and treating her as anything but would disgrace me.

And she was caught by snatchers, which is what I realized those other men with Fenrir were. She'd be dead in less than an hour, most likely. All because she was born into an unfortunate family. Something she couldn't help, really.

I looked at Bellatrix. Sometimes family was undesirable.

And if she could hear my thoughts now she'd have me sent to Askaban, screaming the words Blood Traitor at me the entire way.

"What is this?" My father asked.

I jumped, frightened that I'd accidentally spoken out loud.

"They say they've got Potter." My mother replied. She looked worried, anxious. Perhaps she was worried the dirty prisoners would ruin her carpet.

Greyback turned his eyes on me. I resisted the urge to flinch. Fenrir's reputation was as horrifying as it was terrifying.

"Well, boy?" He growled at me.

They didn't know. They didn't know it was Harry Potter. They wanted me to confirm if it was or not.

Well, I wasn't going to tell them. They could figure it out for themselves.

To be honest, as much as I hated him, I was silently rooting for him. Everyone said he was out there, trying to take down Voldemort. But he was as good as dead, now. There would be no hope as soon as the Dark Lord realized we had him.

"Well, Draco?" My father asked, coming up beside me and staring at Harry. "Is it? Is it Potter?"

I pretended to examine Harry, bent close to his face. He wouldn't meet my eyes. I didn't blame him.

"I can't- I can't be sure." I said, quickly backing away from him.

Perhaps they didn't even realize they had Hermione. Maybe they'd release her, thinking she was just some Hogwarts student who didn't want to attend under Voldemort's rein. She could give a fake name, have herself sent back to the school.

She'd be safe.

But she'd be found out the second anyone else laid there eyes on her. My father must know it was her, too. The thought made me sick. He'd have her killed if the choice of whether she lived or died was on his head.

My father said something else, but I didn't hear him. Hermione's large brown eyes met mine, a pleading look in them.

What did she expect me to do? There wasn't anything I _could_ do, other than just get myself killed too.

"What about the mudblood, then?" Fenrir asked, eying Hermione like a piece of meat.

I wondered what kind of trouble I'd be in if I hexed him.

"Yes- yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter!" My mother said gleefully. "I saw her picture in the prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

Again, Hermione's pleading eyes met mine. I could almost read her mind, begging me to lie. What good would it do? They need only find a copy of the paper and we'd both be found out. Potter I could pretend to not know. He didn't even look like himself. Hermione, on the other hand, was only covered in scrapes and dirt. Easily recognizable.

"I-, maybe, yeah." I said, turning away from her.

"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" My mother said and I almost expected her to clap with happiness. "It's them, Potter's friends! Draco, look at him! Isn't that Arthur Weasley's son-,"

"Yeah." I said, not looking at them. "It could be."

I walked to the corner of the room, sitting on one of our sofas, pointedly not looking at the captured prisoners. But maybe I _should_ look. This would be the last time I'd ever see her.

Hermione had tears streaking down her face as everyone else debated calling Voldemort. Maybe I could save her, before they got here. I could apparate, couldn't I? Not inside the house. Would it be possible to make it all the way outside the property before someone caught us?

Mother and father wouldn't fight me, but Bellatrix and Fenrir wouldn't hesitate. Anything to please the 'Dark Lord' for her, anything to get money or power for Fenrir.

I watched as my father lifted his sleeve. I'd have to act fast. I stood up, moving towards the ground of tied up people as everyone else is distracted. I'd just about reached them when Bellatrix shouted.

"STOP!" She shrieked.

Panicked, I glanced up, knowing I was caught. Would they realize what I'd been doing? Could I lie and get away with it?

But she wasn't looking at me. She was watching my father, her eyes filled with horror.

"Do not touch it." She said, her voice a deadly whisper. "We shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now."

My father froze and everyone's attention was on Bellatrix. I made it to the prisoners, pulling out my wand. I was about to undo the ropes when stunning spells flew wild around the room.

I ducked as one hit the snatcher standing nearest me. Bellatrix grabbed a sword that Fenrir had been holding. Again, under the distraction of something else, I used my wand to untie one of the ropes holding in the group of people.

"Draco," Bellatrix's voice made me pause. There was still so many other place I'd need to cut to get them free.

I met her eyes, mine wide.

"Move this scum outside." She said, obviously not realizing what I'd been doing. "If you haven't got the guts to finish them, leave them for in the courtyard for me."

My mother snapped something back at her, but I didn't mind the comment. I'd realized I wasn't the kind of person who was able to end someone's life.

Using my wand to lift them, I brought the stunned men outside. I returned quickly to the room, making sure Hermione was okay.

When I returned, she was alive, but she was also the only one of the prisoners left in the room.

"Where did you get it?" Bellatrix shrieked at her.

Hermione looked terrified and was trembling. "I don't- we found it!"

"LIES!" Bellatrix shouted, swishing her wand.

Hermione crumpled to the ground, screaming. Bellatrix jumped on her, a knife poised above Hermione's neck.

"Stop!" I shouted, unable to help myself.

Bellatrix ignored me. "How did you get into my vault?" She hissed.

The knife pressed into Hermione's neck, a thin line of blood seeping from the wound.

I drew my wand, ready to do _something_, when a stunning spell, sent by Bellatrix as if she'd been waiting for me to do something, hit me in the chest.

My head hit the wall as I flew back. The last thing I heard before passing out was Hermione's ear splitting screams echoing around the room.

I came to, not taking the time to get my barrings before raising my wand. The second I did, Potter, now back from the cellar, which is where I'd assumed he'd been brought, snatched it out of my hand.

Didn't he realize I needed that to protect her?

I took in everything going on in seconds. Hermione lay on the ground, unconscious, the blood on her neck flowing more freely. Nothing else mattered, really.

I watched vaguely noticed someone disarming Bellatrix but I was too busy moving towards Hermione's motionless body. She had to be unconscious. She had to be. There was no way she was... She wasn't dead!

Bellatrix reached her first.

"Stop!" She yelled, the knife once again at Hermione's throat. "STOP OR SHE DIES! Put down your wands!"

No one reacted.

"I said put them down!"

Both Ron and Harry moved to put down the wands they were holding.

"Grab them, Draco." Belltrix told me, her eyes not leaving the others.

I did as she said, keeping my eyes on Hermione. Her eyelids flickered and I watched hopefully as they opened, slowly at first, faster the more the blinked. Bellatrix was still shouting but I wasn't paying attention.

What did grab my attention, though, was a grinding noise. Bellatrix threw Hermione in my direction as the chandelier directly above her fell. Unfortunately, she managed to make it out of the way.

I got Hermione, her body still limp despite the fact that her eyes had opened. The wands I'd been holding fell and Harry scrambled to pick them up.

"Are you okay?" I whispered in Hemione's ear. I didn't get a response.

Someone else was shouting now, a familiar voice.

"Dobby has come to save Harry Potter!" Shouted the little elf.

He was going to apparate with them. I had a split second to notice Ron moving towards me, probably to grab Hermione. He wouldn't make it. Lifting her over my shoulder, I ran to Dobby. Ron paused, realizing what I was doing and grabbed the house elf. I'd just barely grabbed onto his dirty robes as everything around me spun out of control.

All I could focus on was keeping a grip on Ron's robes and an even tighter one on Hermione.

We landed on a beautiful cliff side. There was a small house not too far away. Hermione was ripped from my arms and I turned. Weasley held her against him, staring hard at me. He looked like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to thank me or kill me.

Our eyes were locked when a hand grabbed me from behind and turned me around, a wand nearly poking my face. The holder had red hair. Perhaps he was another Weasley. They seemed to bred like rabbits.

"Let me go!" I shouted, reaching for my own wand before I realized I didn't have it.

"What is he doing here?" The man growled. He was scarred badly on one side of his face.

"He saved me." Hermione's small voice said.

I managed to turn around at the sounds. I hoped the concern for her I was feeling wasn't evident on my face.

"But he's Lucius Malfoy's son." The man said, sounding confused.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked, angry.

"Well, I don't-,"

"Either way, save it for later." I said, staring pointedly at Hermione in Ron's arm. "She needs help."

It was then that we all noticed Harry, clutching Dobby to him, tears streaking his face. The elf had a blade sticking out of his chest. I felt a little twinge of pity. He looked pathetic, his small body curled in on itself.

"Can I be alone?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes off the small figure.

"Sure." The older Weasley said. He didn't release me. "Take her inside. Fleur will help her."

The small house was even smaller with everyone inside of it. The elf had obviously saved the crazy Lovegood girl who'd been in the basement, along with the wandmaker.

A beautiful woman, the one I'd recognized from competing in the Triwizard Tournament with Potter, quickly hurried to tend to Hermione. Proof of just how deep I was in was the fact that my eyes barely took in the woman's looks. Instead they slipped immediately to the other girl.

"Is she going to be okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"Why are you here?" Ron hissed at me. "Why did you- why did you save her?"

"Does it matter?" I spat, sneering. "She's alive, isn't she?"

"You're right. It doesn't matter." Said Ron's brother. "What does matter is that you need to go."

"I can't go!" I said, feeling a little panicked.

I hadn't considered any of this when I'd grabbed Ron's sleeve, saving Hermione's life and completely changing mine.

"They'll kill me. I betrayed them. I helped Potter escaped, and aided a mud- a muggleborn."

The pretty blonde woman turned to me, a quizzical look on her face.

"'e risked his life to save theese girl." She said, her eyes moving to Ron's brother's. Her accident was definitely French."'e can stay for now."

Ron's brother released me.

"Is there enough room for everyone here, Charlie?" Ron asked.

How could her, for more than ten seconds, take his eyes off Hermione? I couldn't. I didn't like this strange pull that she had on me.

"No, there isn't. Draco, you're the only one well enough, so you're going to have to be moved to my aunts. The rest of the family is there." Charlie added to Ron.

I couldn't leave her here. I needed an excuse.

"The rest of the Weasley's, you mean?" I asked, not having to fake the disgusted tone in my voice. "I'm not going there."

Charlie sighed, sounding tired. I didn't care. All I cared about was the small girl, now laying on the couch, her chest rising and falling slowly, the only indication that she was even still alive.

"She's fine." Fleur, I think her name was, told me. She'd caught me watching Hermione. Ron gave me a sharp look but I ignored it. I'd never felt more relieved in my life.

* * *

><p>Hours later I lay in the large tent that Charlie had set up for me. There hadn't been enough room in the house. No one else was sleeping outside, and secretly I was thankful. No one else would have been welcome, except Hermione.<p>

Hermione...

A single line, written in some stupid muggle play, came floating into my brain.

_My only love, sprung from my only hate._

I couldn't remember where I'd heard it, exactly, but the words couldn't have described my situation any better. I loved her.

I, Draco Malfoy, loved Hermione Granger. I was pretty sure she still hated me. Why wouldn't she? I'd only ever been horrid to her. Yet I'd just given up my whole life to save her. As long as the Dark Lord ruled, I would have to stay in hiding.

No doubt my stupid aunt would betray me to him, telling him all the sordid details of how I helped them all escape.

I rolled over in the uncomfortable bed. My mother would be worried. I pictured her in my minds eyes, sitting back and watching as Bellatrix tortured Hermione.

So what if she was a mudblood? How could a mother watch a child get tortured? What kind of person did that make her?

I knew the answer to that, but didn't want to admit it to myself.

Cowards. That's all we were, we Malfoy's. I was too cowardly to kill Dumbledore, or to admit that I _couldn't_ kill him. Voldemort would have killed me, so instead I put innocent people in danger in my stupid attempts.

My father... he was only loyal to Voldemort because he was scared he would be killed, and because he wanted power.

Maybe my mother only wanted to keep us all safe, and that was why she allowed these things to happen.

Bellatrix... She wasn't a Malfoy, but we shared blood. She didn't have an excuse. She was just evil.

No matter what the reasons, I was disgusted with the family I'd been born into. Hermione was the mudblood, but I bet her muggle family wasn't any wear near as evil and disgusting as mine.

"Draco?"

God, was I really so pathetic that I actually started hearing her voice? What was wrong with me-,

A small hand touched my back and I rolled over while simultaneously sitting up.

"Hermione." I said, taking in her weak looking stance beside my bed. "Sit down."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have sneaked up on you like that." She said, not meeting my eyes.

"You should be." I said, my voice a little sharp. "You should have staid in bed. You're not well."

She laughed, a small, strained sound. "That's exactly why I had to come out here. Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" I asked, trying not to look at her but finding it hard.

It was dark in the tent, but there was a lamp on outside the small room where the beds were, and it shone on her face, making her look beautiful but ghostly pale.

"Saving my life, worrying about me." She told me. She turned to face me now, and her face was scrunched up in a frown.

It made me sick to realize that I found the expression cute.

"A thank you would be preferred to an interrogation." I said, finally turning away from her.

"Thank you." She said, giving me a small smile. "But you hate me. I don't understand."

"That's a first." I said, resisting the urge to snort. "I thought you understood everything."

"Not you." She said quietly.

I sighed. "I don't hate you." I said, my voice equally quiet. "But if I told you why I did everything you wouldn't believe me anyways."

Hermione's small hand rested on my thigh and I stared at it. A part of me hated her touching me, the part that had been taught since birth to despise muggleborns. Another part of me wished her hand was a little higher up.

I shook my head, feeling horrified. I hadn't just thought that.

"Try me." Hermione said simply, unaware of the thought going on inside my head, thankfully.

This was it. I could either lie, or-, "I couldn't take living in a world where you didn't exist."

The silence after my words was terrible. Why had I said them? And, oh, god, why did I mean them?

Hermione stood up, looking even more confused.

"Next time you fall in love with a girl, Draco, why not just tell her how you feel instead of being cruel to her?" She asked, shaking her head and exiting the room.

I jumped up, grabbing her hand to stop her.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, staring down at my hand which had grabbed hers.

"I'm doing what you said. I love you, Hermione." I said and, without giving it thought, planted a kiss on her soft lips.

I expected her to pull away and slap me but she didn't. Instead, she leaned into me, pressing her lips more firmly to mine. Hermione's lips parted and my tongue darted out to meet hers. She gasped but didn't pull away.

My hand gripped in her hair and hers dug into my shoulders. Hermione's breath was short pants and I couldn't seem to crush my body any closer to hers as we stood there, entangled in each other.

It was like being caught inside of a tornado. Everything was spinning out of control but were were safe. Undisturbed. Together, at least for now...

* * *

><p><strong>When I get stuck at a part in my current FF, I seem to find myself inspired to write Dramione oneshots. Sorry if it isn't that good! Leave a review! - C<strong>


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